


Forget-Me-Not

by definetlynotahunter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3887740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definetlynotahunter/pseuds/definetlynotahunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock rushes to the hospital, the last thing he expects is for his husband to treat him like a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I want to apologize for basically disappearing for two years. School has been freaking ridiculous, between honors and AP classes, and I haven't had any time to write. I found this is the notes section on my ipod, I think I wrote it sometime last year? Un-beta'd, any errors are mine and I apologize.

Sherlock burst through the hospital doors, searching the lobby before bolting to the nurse's station, gasping. "John Watson-Holmes, he was in a car crash. Please, I'm his husband."   
The receptionist looked up, startled from her daydream. "Um, let me see…" She turned to her computer and pressed a few buttons. "Room 217."  
Sherlock didn't bother to thank the woman - bleached hair 3 kids unfaithful spouse former prostitute - before bolting to the stairs, taking them two at a time, stopping at the sight of his brother in front of the door. "Mycroft, move, let me see him."  
The older Holmes shifted his weight, and for once in his life, looked as if he was at a loss for words. "Sherlock… There have been a few, erm, complications."   
The raven haired man froze. "What sort of complications?"   
"He seems to have suffered some amnesia."   
"Amnesia? Okay, how far back does it go?"  
The ginger man looked down at his hands. "John still thinks you're just flatmates. Last he remembers, you two had just solved the case with the woman in all pink."  
Sherlock went ashen, hand automatically going to his ring. "So, he doesn't remember…"   
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. He's been told he forgot years of his life, so just go in there and take it slowly."   
"Right, of course… Thank you, brother." And with that, he strode forward into the room, choking back tears at the sight of his love, looking so small amongst the hospital equipment. "John…"   
The smaller man turned, and smiled. But it wasn't the smile Sherlock was used to, no - it was the smile of a man who was expecting someone else, but didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. "Sherlock, good to see you. Maybe you can help fill me in on what's been going on. Do we still live together?"  
Sherlock came and sat at his husband's bedside, chest aching. "Yes, we do. We're still at Baker Street as well."  
John nodded. "Oh, good… Then, can you tell me, where's my wife?"   
Sherlock was dumbfounded. "Your… what?"  
"My wife. I woke up, and there was a ring on my finger. Why aren't I living with her?" The small man suddenly looked worried. "Is she dead?"  
"No, John, she's not dead."   
"Then where is she?"  
He swallowed hard. "You've never had a wife, John."  
"Then why in the bloody hell am I wearing a wedding ring? Is it for a case, or something?" Sherlock couldn't take anymore, he clapped a hand over his mouth and bowed his head. His left hand. "Sherlock, are you- what's on your hand? Is that a wedding ring?"  
"John, you have never had a wife, because-"  
Suddenly, Mycroft entered, carrying a squalling infant. "He won't stop crying, Sherlock, how do I make him stop?"   
Sherlock immediately stood and went to his brother, taking the dark haired child from him, crooning to the small bundle. "It's okay darling, bad Uncle Mycroft is gone, daddy's here, daddy's got you…" The child immediately quieted, blinking up at him intelligently, then saying in a definitive tone, "Dada."  
"You have a baby?" He chuckled softly. "Who's the lucky lady?"   
Sherlock kept bouncing the small child. "He was born to a surrogate. I used an experimental procedure to combine the sperm of my husband and myself, in order to make him biologically both of ours."  
John looked surprised. "Husband?"  
Sherlock looked back at him coolly. "Is that a problem?"  
"No, no- of course not, no. 'm just surprised, is all." The baby cooed, and Sherlock smiled down at him radiantly. /That's a good look on him./ John thought absently.  
"You know him. My husband, that is."   
"Oh, do I? Who is it?"  
Sherlock seemed to change the subject. "Did you look inside your ring for an engraving?"  
John looked down at his hand. "No, that was dumb of me." He pulled it off and inspected the inside. "J.H.W.H. + W.S.S.W.H. What's all that stand for?"  
Sherlock sighed. "John, you're not going to take this very well, so please hear me out. You don't have a wife. You have a husband. A husband who loves you and cares for you very, very much. You have a baby boy, named Hamish Scott, and a little girl on the way that you haven't named yet." He was crying by this point. "You've been married for almost two years, and you live in Baker Street, and everything was completely wonderful, so if you could do us all a favor and regain your memory, that would be lovely."   
John looked surprised at the emotional outburst. Then he looked at the child in Sherlock's arms, and said tentatively, "Hamish?"  
The child wiggled and turned to look at him. "Papa?"  
John gasped. "Is he…? I mean, are we…?"  
Sherlock nods. "John Hamish Watson-Holmes and William Sherlock Scott Watson-Holmes. Married on June third, almost two years ago."  
John's mind was reeling. "But I'm not gay!"   
Sherlock sighed, but before he could speak, the little bundle in his arms piped up. "Papapapapapa!"  
"Mish, love, Papa isn't feeling himself-"  
"Wan' Papa!"   
He sighs. "John, would you mind holding him?"  
John was conflicted. "Um, sure, hand him over."  
Sherlock walked over and settled the tiny child in his husband's arms. The young boy looked up at John, and he gasped. "He has my eyes…"  
The taller man smiled. "Yes he does. My hair, your eyes… He's lovely."  
John felt tears pricking at his eyes. "He's perfect. My son…" He looked up. "Our son."  
Sherlock smiled gorgeously. "Does that mean… You believe me? You're not, upset or anything?"  
"Why would I be? Wonderful son, baby on the way, gorgeous husband. What more could a man ask for, except maybe to remember it all?" That said, he grabbed the taller man by the lapels with his free hand and pulled him down into a searing kiss. After a moment, he pulled back. "I'm looking forward to reacquainting myself with every inch of you, Sherlock Watson-Holmes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Sherlock brings his husband home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, my life has been absolutely insane.

Sherlock handed the baby over to Molly carefully. "You're sure you don't mind?"   
Molly smiled and cradled Hamish. "Of course not, John needs a little time to reacclimate and heal up a bit, a few days with this little darling is no trouble at all, isn't that right, Hamish?"   
The baby giggled and cooed. "Momo!"   
The dark haired man smiled and kissed his brow. "Behave, my darling, we'll see you in a few days." He thanked Molly and headed back to the cab where his amnesiac husband was waiting patiently. He slid into the back and had to remind himself to keep a respectable distance.   
John smiled. "Get over here, git." He scooted closer to Sherlock. "I'm not going to remember anything with you tiptoeing around me like I'm going to break."  
Sherlock relaxed. "You're right, of course." He put an arm around the smaller man and kissed his temple.  
John leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, murmuring. "I hope I'm not dreaming."  
Sherlock pulled his husband further into his arms. "You're not, I promise."   
John smiled up at him. "What did I do in the time I forgot to deserve you?"  
He chuckled. "Don't be silly, John, you deserve far better than me."  
John rolled his eyes, then had a thought. "Do we have a wedding video? It might help me remember."   
"Of course. Here we are." He climbed out, paying the cabbie and holding a hand out to John. John took the hand and climbed out, surveying the area. Sherlock led him inside and upstairs, which was relatively unchanged, but the differences stood out. There was a cot and a playpen in one corner of the room, as well as baby toys and clothes scattered about. Sherlock looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't have any time to clean up."  
"It's fine, feels more homey." He sat on the couch hesitantly, trying not to get overwhelmed.   
Sherlock walked forward and bent in front of the tv to get into the movie cabinet, looking for the wedding video. John swallowed hard, trying not to look at his flatmate's arse, when he realised- they were /married/, he could look at Sherlock all he wanted. He could look, and touch, and taste… Sherlock's voice startled him out of his daydream. "Here we are." He pulled out a DVD and put it in the player, kicking off his shoes and sitting next to John, pulling him close to cuddle.  
John was stiff for a moment before pulling the taller man nearly into his lap, placing a soft kiss on the pale skin of his neck before looking up to the screen.   
~John is standing at the altar, looking sharp in his freshly pressed military uniform, and he turns as the music starts, craning to see the man coming up the aisle. His eyes filled with tears as the raven haired man walked up the aisle on his brother's arm, eyes shining with unshed tears. Mycroft passed his brother off to the one man he trusted to take care of him, smiling and giving his brother a hug before moving to the side. Sherlock and John stared into each other's eyes blissfully, and the priest started the service. "John, would you like to say your vows?"  
John nodded. "I would. Sherlock Holmes, you gorgeous, brilliant, wonderful, confusing man, standing up here today, I am the luckiest man alive. You fill my life with adventure, with laughter, and with love. You love so fiercely, and I am blessed to be on the receiving end. I can only hope you know how much I love you." The room was filled with aw's.  
The priest smiled. "Sherlock, your vows."   
Sherlock looked at the ground and took a deep, steadying breath. "John Hamish Watson. There are no words, in any language, that could come close to describing what I feel for you, but I'm going to try my best." He cleared his throat. "When I met you, I saw a brave, caring man, who would put a complete stranger before himself. I prepared myself to be mocked, like everyone else would, but you told me I was amazing." He took another deep breath, but the next sentence still came out shudderingly. "No one had ever said that to me before. And we became flatmates, we became friends, and you were the very first friend I'd ever had. I didn't realize how much I loved you until the pool. I saw you and I knew in my heart that if you didn't make it, neither would I." He swallowed hard. "My entire life, I was drowning, suffocating, and I didn't know how to fix myself. But I didn't have to, because you fixed me. You saved me, and I will never stop loving you."   
There were sounds of people pulling tissues from their pockets and wiping their eyes. The priest himself had let slip a single tear. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and husband. You may kiss the groom."   
Sherlock pulled John into an adoring kiss just as explosive as their first, and the room erupted in cheers as they held onto each other and kissed like it was the first and last time.~   
John was floored. "H-how could I forget that? It's…" He pulled Sherlock into a heated kiss, closing his eyes tight. Sherlock made a soft sound of surprise which John swallowed greedily, pushing Sherlock into his back to lay over him on the couch, rubbing his husband's chest with his free hand. Sherlock moaned softly and arched into the touch, legs falling apart automatically. John pulled back, flushed. "Can I- I-I mean, can we-"  
"Yes." Sherlock stood and pulled him to the bedroom, stopping to press him into every wall to kiss him along the way. By the time they got to the bedroom, they were both naked and achingly hard, John pressing Sherlock into the bed.  
"H-how do we usually do this? I mean…"  
"Do you want numbers?" John nodded. "You bottom about 63% of the time, but right now, I want you inside me." He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a container of lubricant, setting it on the bed.  
John swallowed hard, and his voice was husky. "God, I've wanted to hear that for so long." He took the lube and warmed it between his hands, squeezing some out onto his fingers and reaching down to rub his husband's rim. Sherlock gasped and moaned, biting his plush lower lip.  
John's cock throbbed at the beautiful man spread out beneath him, and he leaned down to suck a possessive mark in the pale skin covering his collarbone as he eased the first finger in. Sherlock made a choked sound, canting his hips to press into the intruding digit.  
John spent his time preparing the gorgeous man beneath him, skillfully manipulating the small nub inside of him. Sherlock was absolutely wanton. "J-John, /please/, fuck!"   
No further prompting was needed. John covered his aching erection with lube, probably more than was strictly necessary, but he would rather be prepared. He lined up to his husband and pressed in slowly, and he nearly came right then and there. "Sher, oh fuck, so tight, ohh… Not gonna last, baby…"  
Sherlock threw his head back in ecstasy. “Need you, oh god, John, /please/!”   
With that, the doctor sped up, nipping and sucking at the pale neck before him. All too soon, his movements lost their fluidity, and he fumbled to fist at his lover’s cock to bring them both to completion together. With final cries they finished, John collapsing practically on top of his husband. The raven haired man nosed at the blond’s temple, placing soft kisses between murmured proclamations of love.   
John finally got his breath back and propped himself up, a tired grin on his face. “That was… amazing.”  
Sherlock grinned a Cheshire grin, stretching out and sighing. “I agree completely.”  
John watched as the man he had loved and admired for so long drifted off to sleep, staying awake to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, spending the night alternating between gazing at his lover and straining to remember their life together. When morning finally struck, he could hardly breathe for the beauty of the man next to him.   
The darker haired man blinked awake with a sigh, and he smiled at the sight of his husband. “Good morning.”  
John touched the pale man’s cheek gently. “You look like an angel.”  
Sherlock couldn’t hold back the blush. “You must’ve hit your head harder than the doctors initially thought. But seriously, do you remember anything at all?”  
John’s smile fell, and he felt a gnawing in his chest. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything.”  
Sherlock’s face fell as well. “That’s okay, don’t worry. It’ll come. Now get off me, I need a shower.” The taller man stood quickly when his husband moved off. He went straight to the bathroom and closed the door.  
John sighed, and he felt the gnawing grow. “Shit…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Comments remind me these stories exist, unfinished, and motivate me to write more!


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